


Uncle Petyr

by namesareoverrated



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), creepyshipping - Fandom, petyr x sansa - Fandom
Genre: 80s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepy, Creepyshipping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Loss of Virginity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Predator petyr, Pseudo-Incest, Smut, Underage Sex, creepy but sexy, kind of jane eyre inspired, petyr is old, sansa is 14, uncle petyr kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namesareoverrated/pseuds/namesareoverrated
Summary: Sansa Stark has lost her entire family except for an older brother who refuses to take her in, so she's off from London to Ireland to live with her Uncle Petyr, whom she's never met, leaving behind everything she's ever known. His house is in the middle of nowhere, it's old and it's creepy, and there's something about the man himself that makes him menacing, but she can't quite put her finger on it. Her cousin Robin seems a bit terrified of Petyr and Sansa begins to wonder what exactly he's hiding, when she starts hearing strange noises coming from the locked door that leads to the cellar. And on top of it all the way he looks at her makes her certain that his intentions are a far cry from pure.





	Uncle Petyr

                                                                        

 

**November 1985**

 

“He's your only living relative.”

Sansa blinked away tears and when that merely succeeded in making more, she turned her gaze out the window, hoping that Mr. Luwin had not noticed. He was using the term _relative_ rather loosely. She had never met the man she was on her way to live with, though apparently he had been married to her late aunt, Lysa, making him her uncle through marriage. Did it still count if Lysa was dead, she wondered?

“What about my mum’s brother? Uncle Edmure?”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. He never gave us a response. Be grateful Mr. Baelish has agreed to take you in, young Miss. If not you would have been sent to a children's home and believe me when I say that is no place a fourteen-year-old girl wants to be.”

“Of course, Sir. I’m most grateful.” She fixed her attention on the winding lane leading toward Petyr Baelish’s property. A thick fog blanketed the land and it was almost impossible to see past it. Bare, twisted, branches stretched out from seemingly ancient trees and created a rather ominous tunnel over the dirt road. Sansa felt a deep chill run down her spine causing goose pimples to break out on her skin and she tried to chalk it up to the cool November air, though when his home finally came into view she decided the air had nothing to do with it. The place was creepy.

Wrought iron gates stood open and in the distance loomed a two story Georgian rectory with a five-bay front. Sansa felt the chill again. The home looked as though it had been stolen from a horror film and placed precariously in her path, with chipped and cracked paint that wasn't quite white anymore, vines climbing up to the second story windows, and drapes just begging to be pulled back by someone who wasn't actually there. For a moment she found herself wondering if a children's home would look as eerie as Petyr Baelish's house.

The driver pulled the car around the circular driveway so that Sansa's window faced the structure and she felt her stomach cramp in discomfort. It wasn't enough that her family was gone, now she had to give up her home, her school, her friends and move into a haunted looking house with a perfect stranger. _Fucking great_.

“Let's go young lady, we don't have all day,” Mr. Luwin said, opening his door and exiting the vehicle.

Sansa let out a winded sigh and did the same. Mr. Luwin had already opened the trunk and was sitting her bags onto the gravel driveway, all two of them. She tried not to think about all of the things she had left behind, her memories included, and tried instead to get through the next few moments, grabbing one of her bags and following her temporary guardian to the front door of her new home. He pushed the ringer and they waited in silence for a few minutes before the door opened and a buxom redhead stood before them. She wore a modest knee-length black skirt and a white blouse neatly tucked in. “Ah, you must be Mr. Luwin and Ms. Stark.”

“Indeed.”

Sansa wondered if the woman before her was her uncle’s new girlfriend. “Do come in, Mr. Baelish is expecting you. He's waiting in his study. I'm Ros, his housekeeper.”

Not a girlfriend. Sansa and Mr. Luwin followed the young woman through the door which opened to a great hall. She looked around, noticing the original woodwork, which must have dated back to the 1790s, had been maintained. Sansa glanced through an open doorway to her right to see a family room filled with furniture that matched  the period in which the house had been built and it was obvious that the place was kept immaculately clean, but the dated feel of it all still gave her the creeps.

“You can sit your bags down, love. Let's go talk to your uncle.”

“I'm sorry but I must be going,” Mr. Luwin said. “I have another matter to attend to.”

“You're leaving _now_?” Sansa asked, her heart immediately beginning to race. Not that she had any great attachment to Mr. Luwin but he was familiar and she was clinging to that.

“I'm afraid so my dear. I've done all I can do and you’re with family now. You’ll be just fine. Do give Mr. Baelish my regards, Ros. If there are any problems he has my number.” And just like that he was gone.

“Sansa dear, come. Your uncle is excited to meet you.”

Sansa reluctantly followed Ros down the hall and when they reached the last door on the left she knocked twice and opened the door. “Mr. Baelish, your niece has arrived. Mr. Luwin has already left.”

“Send her in.” His voice was low, almost raspy, and there certainly did not appear to be any of the excitement Ros had mentioned in it's tone.

The housekeeper stepped aside and it took Sansa a few moments to realize that she meant for her to enter. “Go on,” Ros said. “He doesn't bite.”

Sansa took a deep breath and crossed the threshold and when Ros closed the door behind her the click sounded so final, as if there was no going back. She supposed there wasn't, for there was nothing for her to go back to. She turned her attention away from the closed door to the desk in the center of the room where her uncle sat with the back of his chair to her. Suddenly the chair spun and the man stood.

“It's a lovely view isn't it?” he said, motioning to the windows behind him that faced the vast countryside surrounding the home.

“Yes, sir,” she answered and she noticed that he was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes. Grey-green eyes that bore into her making her feel a bit uncomfortable. Petyr Baelish wasn't what she was expecting, not exactly. Age-wise yes, which appeared to be in his early forties but the only sure sign was the grey at his temples on an otherwise dark head of hair and the salt and peppered mustache and goatee.

Sansa had not known her aunt well, and had not seen the woman in years before she died, but she had a reputation of being somewhat deranged. She had been a gaunt woman, with a hooked nose- not at all considered attractive, like her sister, Sansa’s mother, had been. It came as somewhat of a surprise that a man like Petyr Baelish would have married Lysa, based on first impression alone. He wore fitted slacks that hugged his slender hips, a neatly pressed white shirt, and an equally form-fitting black waistcoat. In other words he looked far too put together to be interested in the chaos that was Lysa.

Was he too handsome for her as well? Perhaps, for an older man, but not in the typical way men were considered handsome with muscles and broad shoulders. He was slim and lean looking with a sharp, angular nose and thin lips, and eyes that appeared very intense, albeit not entirely readable. Sansa decided that he _was_ too handsome for her aunt.

Petyr Baelish took slow, measured steps until he stood only an arm’s length from Sansa and she felt her heart picking up speed again, an uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Sansa. But I'm pleased to have you here.”

His eyes lowered and looked her entire frame up and down before returning his gaze to her own and Sansa felt a flush spreading across her cheeks. The words coming out of his mouth were nice enough in meaning but his presence felt somewhat menacing and she began fidgeting with her hands, hoping that he could not sense her unease. “Thank you Mr- Uncle...Petyr.”

Moments passed where he seemed to only stare at her and she thought she would die of anxiety. When he reached to grab a strand of her hair she almost flinched. “A lovely shade of red. You look very much like your mother did at your age.”

“You knew my mother when she was fourteen?”

“I did.” He released her hair abruptly and turned, walking back to his chair to take a seat. “But that's a story for another day. I imagine you want to get settled in. We’ll talk more over dinner. At six o’clock I expect you in  the dining room.” Without another word or glance, he returned his attention to the papers that were spread out across his desk.

Relieved, Sansa took that as her dismissal and quickly retreated into the hallway, closing the door to his office behind her. She returned to where she had left her bags sitting in the hall and proceeded to pick them up when a young boy barreled down the steps in her direction.

“You're here!” When he reached the bottom he closed the distance between them and crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her waist, and almost knocking her over.

Her cousin Robin, of course, how could she forget? He had been Lysa's only child. “Hello, Robin.” She ruffled his dark hair and pushed him back so she could get a look at him. He was a slight boy of around ten, with a hooked nose like his mother's, and dark circles under his eyes indicating that he either slept very little or was very ill, perhaps both. Sansa remembered he had been born prematurely and she recalled her mother often mentioning that he was a sickly child.

“Sansa, I'm your cousin.”

“Yes, Robin, I know.”

“I don't remember you but Petyr told me you were coming to live with us.”

“That's true.”

“Yessss. It gets kind of lonely here but now you can play with me.”

Sansa smiled, not sure exactly what to say. She honestly didn't make it a habit of playing with ten-year-olds, she was a teenager, but since all of her friends were back in London what else was she going to do? “Yeah, sure, but right now I have to put my things in my room and take a shower.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. I can show you which room is yours.”

Ros suddenly appeared again, almost out of nowhere, and she immediately began ushering Robin off. “Go on and play Robin, your cousin needs to get settled. You can spend some time with her later.”

“You're not my mother and you can't tell me what to do,” the boy said, defiantly.

Ros placed her hands on her hips and glowered at the child in the challenging way that, even though she wasn't his mother, mother's often did. “Shall I tell your uncle that you're being disobedient?”

 “No! No don't tell Petyr.” Robin's eyes widened in- _what was that? Fear?_ Real and genuine fear. “I'm sorry. Don’t tell him. Forget I said it.” He ran up the stairs and disappeared from sight. Was Petyr really that terrifying? All children were afraid of being reprimanded by adults but the boy’s reaction was a little more than typical.

“Petyr isn't Robin's uncle. Is he?”

Ros smiled warmly and picked up one of Sansa’s bags. “No, he isn't. Lysa and Petyr thought it best to refer to him as something affectionate and familiar but not as intrusive as calling him dad. So, Robin calls him Uncle Petyr. Come on, I'll show you to your room.”

Sansa's new room was a decent size, not overly large but not too small. There was a poster bed, a matching dresser, a vanity, and a small desk. _But no t.v_ . _Didn't this guy have money?_ Surely he could afford a few television sets, almost everyone had more than one, even the poorest kids in Sansa’s old school were getting their own television sets in their rooms. Sansa wasn't being a whiny brat, she needed it as a distraction, something to focus on at night until sleep finally took her. Something to keep her mind from wandering. Maybe he would put one in if she asked.

Noting the time on the wall clock, Sansa decided she needed to put her things away quickly and get a shower before dinner. Mr. Baelish did not seem like the type of man who would take kindly to tardiness. She wasn't altogether sure he seemed kind at all.

 

**********************************

“I don't like broccoli,” Robin said as he sat across from Sansa at the dining room table, twirling his fork between his fingers.

“You will eat it anyway,” Petyr ordered. He sat at the head of the table with a child on either side of him, Sansa to his right and Robin to his left. “Sansa, did you like your room?”

“It's great.” She wondered if now would be the time to bring up a t.v. but decided it probably wasn't a good idea in Robin's presence.

“I admit it hasn't been used in quite some time and may seem a little outdated but I had Ros clean it up for you. I imagine you’ll find a way to make it your own.”

Sansa nodded and took a big bite of her broccoli, glancing across the table at her cousin to see if he would follow suit. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when the boy stabbed a flouret with his fork and nibbled off a chunk. Something about her uncle's demeanor told her that she had no desire to see him angry.

“What year are you in in school Sansa?” Mr. Baelish asked her, wiping delicately at the corner of his mouth with the cloth napkin.

“I'm in my third year of secondary, Sir.”

“Excellent. I'll have an instructor in for you on Monday.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but what do you mean that you’ll have an instructor _in_?”

"You’ll be homeschooled, of course. One-on-one attention will prove a much more thorough education, I assure you.”

Sansa had suddenly lost her appetite. _Homeschool?_ She would never make friends staying at home all the time. This was awful. At least at an orphanage there would have been other children. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with anxiety and sadness and tears threatened to gush from behind her composure. “May I be excused?” Petyr eyed her skeptically but nodded and as Sansa quickly stood and left the dining area she heard Robin whining about why she didn't have to finish his broccoli but he did.

 

**********************************

 

Sansa spent the next few hours in her room crying, looking at photographs of her family she had brought with her, and finally trying to distract herself with a book. So many times she tried to convince herself that things would get better but how could they? Her entire family was gone, except for her older brother, Robb, but he was in America with his wife and their new baby and hardly had time to listen to the complaints of his little sister. Not that she would complain to him anyway, they hadn’t really spoken since he declined the offer to let her live with him. Their parents and other siblings were dead, killed in an awful auto accident, and all he had to say for himself was that they didn’t have enough room to house her. She would have slept on the couch, she didn’t care, because she would have been with her brother, her last living link to her family. As far as she was concerned he may as well be dead too.

She started crying again, curling her knees up to her chest, balling her body up as tightly as she could. Sometimes she wished she had died too. The only thing that had saved her from being in that car was her own selfishness and she supposed her punishment for that selfishness was having to go on without them. Having to live knowing that the last time she had seen or spoken to her mother she had been whining and acting like a brat because she wanted to spend the weekend with a friend instead of going on “some stupid family trip”. The look of hurt in her mum’s eyes when she had declared she was too old for family game nights and trips still haunted her.

A light tapping at the door brought Sansa out of her reverie. “It’s unlocked,” she said, quickly wiping at her tear-streaked face.

The door opened and it was her Uncle. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

He closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and it was only then that Sansa realized she wasn’t wearing very much, just a long t-shirt and her panties. She wasn’t sure if making a move to cover herself quickly would be the wrong thing to do or the right thing to do. It was silly to even fret over such a thing probably. If it had been her father walking into the room she wouldn’t have thought twice about her bare legs showing and this man was her uncle. Surely she was being ridiculous. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“That’s actually what I came to ask you. I’m sorry but I thought I heard you crying.”

She nodded. “I was. I’m sorry if I was being too loud.”

“No need to apologize. You have been through a great deal, especially for one so young and on top of your personal tragedies you have had to leave behind your school and your friends...everything that you have ever known to live with a stranger.”

Sansa stared at this man she had only just met, and while his clever eyes frightened her a bit, his words provided a certain amount of comfort. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she blurted out before she had time to stop herself.

“No burden,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m familiar with grief, Sansa. Young Robin was ripped to pieces at the loss of his mother and I have not thought him a burden.” It was strange, she thought, that he did not mention his own grief over the loss of Lysa, she was his wife after all. Then Sansa remembered the fear in Robin’s eyes when Ros had threatened to tell Petyr of his misbehavior and wondered if he was, in fact, a burden to the man.  “If you need to talk, I’ll always be here.”

“A telly would be nice,” she said.

“A telly?”

“Yeah. I’ve had a hard time sleeping since...well, it just helps me sleep.”

“A noisy television helps you sleep?”

“Yes.” He probably didn’t believe her. He probably thought she was just a spoiled child who wanted a t.v. to watch all of her favorite game shows. “The noise of it blocks out the noise in my own head, until I fall asleep.”

He pursed his lips, nodding. “I think I understand. I’ll see what I can do. I wouldn’t want you losing any sleep.”

“Really?” she asked, her spirits lifting.

“Of course.” He reached then, for her hand, and bent his head to place a soft kiss upon her knuckles. “I _will_ take care of you, Sweetling.”

Sansa felt a blush spreading across her cheeks and it was then that she once again became aware of her bare legs and thighs. With her free hand she grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it up to cover herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. She watched his eyes watch her and then move up to look into her own and their intensity almost made her shudder.

“There’s no need for that. I’m your uncle, Sansa.”

“I...I-” before she fumbled further for words he had let go of her hand and brought his to her face where he cupped her chin and ran his thumb across her lips.

“Shhh. No need to explain anything, my dear.” Sansa stared back at him, unable to move, her heart now racing though she wasn’t sure exactly why. He continued brushing his thumb over her lips in what she thought was a rather inappropriate way for an uncle to do to his niece. “So beautiful,” he whispered and leaned forward to press a firm kiss to her cheek.

He got up and left without saying another word and it was a while before Sansa could move.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy y'all. I don't exactly know what inspired this little fic of mine and I don't entirely know where it's going but you are more than welcome to hop on board and find out with me. I hope you enjoy and comments are always much appreciated.


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